


Take Me Down Easy

by breakajaw



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Other, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24948907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakajaw/pseuds/breakajaw
Summary: Odd, how two empty spaces find ways to fill each other.
Relationships: 2d/reader, Stuart "2D" Pot/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Take Me Down Easy

It’s scary, not knowing if this feeling of yawning despair will ever leave. The sick hollow sensation sticks to you, leaves you wanting and frightened and desperate for anything to sew up the wound. And it’s scary not being able to articulate it to others. The words either just won’t manifest, or the person just doesn’t actually care enough. It leads to constant doubt in yourself. Is it really worth it? To go through the effort of telling someone what’s wrong if they’ll only tell you “you don’t have to be sad :)” and then proceed with the conversation as if you aren’t fucking falling apart on the other side of the screen? You tell yourself you’re so stupid, so stupid, for thinking your issues are important or real enough to bother others with. Delete the paragraph of text, turn off the phone, and sit in the dark.  
But there is an outlier. He doesn’t seem to keep up the cycle of burying the dark under piles of empty pleasantries capped off with a couple pretty little emojis. He asks “how are you today” and means it. He says “tell me what color you’re feeling” because he knows how difficult words can be for you. Sends you stupid videos and images he knows will make you laugh, songs he knows you would like. Doesn’t push you to smile so he can be more comfortable, because he knows what that empty feels like, too. Knows your needs down to the last detail because they are his, too. Odd, how two empty spaces find ways to fill each other.  
He asks if you’d want to hang out. Of course you say yes. His voice sounds giddy in your phone’s speakers when you do. You can’t help but smile at that, and you’re surprised to find that it feels so genuine. It takes a couple minutes to actually hang up. It always does. Neither of you ever want to say goodbye.

When he opens the door, his face is already flushed with excitement. He throws his arms around you, and you both laugh breathlessly. He’s so tall, his limbs long and lanky.  
“This is gonna sound weird, but you smell exactly I thought you would. Just like rain,” he breathes into your hair.  
“Really? You smell kinda different than I expected. I thought the cigarette smell would be a little more prominent.”  
That surprises a little snort out of him.  
“I made sure to shower right before you got here.”  
“How sweet,” you tease. He chuckles, unwinding his arms from around you and gently taking your hand. The both of you finally step inside, away from the summer heat. He tells you about all the stuff in his living room, how his band mates never clean anything up, how busy he usually is so he doesn’t have the time to. You assure him that it’s completely fine, and you know he tries to hide it, but you can tell some of the tension leaves his shoulders at that. His room isn’t much cleaner, but he definitely put effort into tidying it up for you, and you can’t help but feel flattered. There’s even a scented candle lit up in the corner. He’s fidgeting next to the bed, where he’d laid out various snacks and canned drinks. It all feels so...so soft.  
“I-i thought we could maybe watch some, uh, some movies or somethin’,” he explains, vaguely gesturing to the tv and snacks.  
“That sounds perfect,” you reply. “Thank you, 2D. For all of this.”  
You’re talking about the setup, of course, but he knows you also mean for everything else. His face falls into something fond and vulnerable, and he nods his head before clambering onto the bed and patting the spot next to him.  
“Well, come on, then.”  
You kick off your shoes and do just that, settling onto the pillows behind you.  
And there, in the ghost-blue glow of the television, his hand holding yours on top of the blankets, you think you’re starting to know what being whole is.

**Author's Note:**

> just a comfort i desperately need


End file.
